


Your eyes behind your veil are doves

by herbatamalinowa



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Also YES i am aware Crowley didn't technically fall Fall but....the DRAMA of it, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Nightmares, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wings, listen. listen i'm a mess, slight body horror at one point, slight usage of christian erotica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbatamalinowa/pseuds/herbatamalinowa
Summary: Crowley can feel it all, the holy fire burning his skin, his face, his wings.





	Your eyes behind your veil are doves

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the nicest bastard I know, my best friend who studied thermics while I studied christian erotica.  
> Title from The Song of Songs.  
> (Drink everytime falling is mentioned)

It's like dying, the Fall.

Crowley can feel it all, the holy fire burning his skin, his face, his wings.

He opens the eyes he's closed in silent terror and looks at the sky to see the sun, and then, just then, he feels the real burn, burn like he'd never felt before.

To be so bound, so ashedn, so broken and yet to hit the ground.

 

The hair's grown back and so did the feathers, but their serene white was gone.

Crowley didn't mind. He found the slick black more fitting anyways, he didn't find his newly grown wing disgusting or ugly, an abomination, a sign of his demise, how he'd fail, did something wrong, fallen, fallen, fallen, just a part of the Great Plan.

He didn't, did he?

 

He saw him first in the Beginning.

There was something about him that made Crowley wonder if perhaps he'd share his faith. He couldn't say he'd mind the thought.

 

And so he never did. He'd been too good for that, too pure, too innocent, and his name should make Crowley choke on his tounge but it never really did. He shared his kindness with him the day they met, shielded him from the rain and it felt just bittersweet.

 

There are little temptations, small sins served on a silver plate, but Aziraphale never gives in, that nervous, kind smile always present on his face and soon enough it's Crowley who gives up.

 _"You'd look good in black"_ he says once, nonchalantly.

The response it quiet.

_"You'd look good in white, perhaps."_

They don't look at each others again that night.

 

The heat kisses Crowley's face as he walks into the burning bookshop. Flames dance around him, mock him, sing – _you've lost it now, the only precious thing –_ and, God, it burns worse than the fall ever could.

 

It feels like they've lost everything for a while but they didn't.

They're curled up on Crowley's bed, turned to opposite walls, backs almost touching but not quite there yet.

Aziraphale doesn't sleep, he never does, but the softness of the matress soothes his weary bones. Crowley on the other hand seems fast asleep, and it's dark so when the angel turns slightly to hook his fingers into the Demon's undershirt he can't see the grimace of pain on his face.

 

The bookshop reappears the next morning so there's no need to stay another night. There's also no need for Crowley to lounge on Alizaphale's antique and uncomfortable sofa, but when you've been around for over 6000 years you find out that there isn't, but also there is a need for everything.

 

It was calming, really, just being there, watching Aziraphale's well manicured hands brush against old pages. Crowley dared wander how those hands would feel on his bare skin. A ray of sunshine shone through the window and found it's place in Aziraphale's hair. Crowley watched untill his eyelids get too heavy to keep up.

 

It''s like dying, the Fall.

Crowley sees it clearly now, the way his wings are burning, feathers falling out one by one, leaving only a charred spine, his hair burning like he's a bizzare match, and his eyes, oh his poor eyes, blistering from the sun, anguish, total agony on his face as his Aziraphale hits the ground, trembling, miserable, fallen. Crowley feels the sob escaping his throat, tears staining his cheeks as he tries to reach the Angel, _oh, but he's an Angel no more,_ Crowley thinks, _just how I once wished._

Aziraphale turns to him before Crowley can hold him and looks at him like he'd never looked at him before, his eyes empty and lifeless as two words fall from his lips.

_"Your fault..."_

 

Crowley wake up screaming, trembling hands reaching, but he doesn't open his eyes, nightmarish images stuck behind his eyelids.

There's something holding him down, the Angels or the Demons, taunting and torturing him with the scene, and then...

_"Crowley, dear boy, I'm here, I'm here.."_

There's a weight on Crowley's lap, gentle fingers brushing his hair out of his sweaty temples, fingers resting on his cheek and it aches, it's so painful, it's unbearable, it fucking hurts.

 _"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Angel, I'm so sorry, it's all ma fault..."_ \- Crowley's face is stained with tears and he chokes on his words.

 _**"Look at me."** _ \- he hears, **_"Open up your eyes."_ **

The voice is strong and commanding, shaking Crowley to the core, and he has no other choice than to do what he's told.

 

He's surrounded, he realises.

Aziraphale's on his lap, their faces inches from each others and his wings, his beautiful wings, they wrap around their frames, obscuring them from the rest of the world, wrapped like a cocoon around them, so big, so pure, so holy. Unable to avert his gaze from the feathers Crowley falls silent, disbelief forming on his face.

_"I...I didn't make you fall?"_

_"What? No, dear, how could you ever?"_ Aziraphale's voice is strained now, nothing like before, tainted with worry.

He gently holds Crowley's face and turns it slightly so he can look him in the eyes.

 _"I'm here,"_ he says, _"I'm here, you're here, everything's fine, dear boy"._

Crowley's feverish gaze finally focus on Aziraphale's face. It's pale, distrought, and so, so real.

He slowly raises his hands to that face, tracing every part of it with the most delicate touch. The wings around them tighten just a little.

 _"You're here"_ Crowley sights and falls into Aziraphale.

 

The day passes and the night falls.

Aziraphale's wings don't surround them anymore, instead stretching their full lenght throught the backroom of his bookshop. Crowley's face rests in the crook of Aziraphale's neck, Aziraphale's mouth near Crowley's ear.

 _"How beautiful you are, my darling,"_ he whispers. Crowley shifts in his position a bit, looking up. Aziraphale smiles softly. _"Oh, how beautiful – your eyes behind your veil are doves"._

 

In the morning Crowley speaks.

_"I used to wish you''d fall, Angel"._

Aziraphale doesn't react, but Crowley knows he's listening. _"Used to wish to have you on my side"._ He looks down in shame. _"To have you"._

The arms wrapped around Crowley, surprisingly, don't pull away.

 _"And then...when I've known you, I still wished for it, but I also couldn't bear the thought. I thought of you falling, burning, and I'd remember how it hurt"._ Crowley's voice raises a bit as he feels soft, comforting touch at the base of his spine.

 _"It hurt so bad, Aziraphale. I started fearing it. Started fearing the day you'd burst into flames and it would be my fault, my hollow temptations that'd bring you down, I was sure, but every time I tried to get away from you, tried to leave you be I'd end up getting closer. I'm selfish Aziraphale, I'm so selfish..."_ the words were spilling out of Crowley's mouth, hysteria building up in his chest again untill Aziraphale's lips met his to stop them both from drowning.

They stay like this for a bit, frozen in time, and then Aziraphale gently pulls away.

 _"I am on your side, Crowley. Our side. Always been even if I didn't really understand back then."_ His lips brush against Crowley's chin, nose, temples. _"But I don't think I'd ever fall for this, dear"._ His fingers curl in Crowley's hair.

 _"This thing is the most precious for me"._ A soft glow illuminate the room as Aziraphale's halo lights up.

_'You see, Crowley, this precious love for you is the most holy thing in me"._

 

They go to Ritz in the evening and order everything off the menu.

Aziraphale laughs at something that Crowley has said and squeezes his hand. Crowley doesn't feel the ache.

 

**Author's Note:**

> god i want a gf with wings


End file.
